


A day on the beach, twenty years ago.

by je_t_oublie



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who: Eighth Doctor Adventures - Various Authors
Genre: Anji only periphally, Fitz's POV, Gen, Smoking, Starfish - Freeform, day in the TARDIS one shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:55:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22373701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/je_t_oublie/pseuds/je_t_oublie
Summary: Fitz remembers his mother, and thinks a little about love, rock pools and starfish.
Kudos: 6





	A day on the beach, twenty years ago.

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks and apologies to my philosophy lecturer, who made a comment during class that caused me to write "Fitz the starfish. Except he suffers a lot" on my notes about Sartre's ontology and de Beauvoir's Ethics of Ambiguity. My starfish knowledge is based solely on what he said, and I was a tad distracted.

“Nah, I’m more like...” he fumbled for a comparison that would make him seem more acceptable than a sloth, “- a starfish!” 

There was a brief, shocked silence before Anji burst out laughing, and the Doctor turned an idly curious look on them both, causing Fitz to flush in embarrassment at his defence.

“No, look,” he tried, vainly trying to recover the situation. “Starfish don’t have any brains, just float around where the tides take ‘em.” Raising his voice to be heard over Anji’s laughter, he flapped his hands towards the Doctor. “The tide, see.”

But the Doctor was looking concerned over Anji’s laughter, not at all pleased at being referred to as the force of nature that shaped Fitz’s life. Or at least, that’s what Fitz was guessing, as a rare inscrutable mask had fallen over the Doctor's features as he had turned away from them both, reaching out to brush delicate fingers down the cracked spine of a shelved book. Fitz felt he had just failed some kind of test, but hey, when was that new in his life? 

The sudden urge to escape, to get away from the Doctor’s disappointment in him was visceral, but just running would show too much weakness, so he teased Anji about her hair flapping around just like the pets of the aliens on the planet they had just visited, and used her inevitable swatting at him as an excuse to retire. Great job, Fitz, at least this runner was less obvious than the usual. 

\--

The later knock at his bedroom door was hesitant, and Fitz, laying on his back on top of his duvet and smoking, threw an arm over his face and pretended to be asleep, cigarette held carefully over the edge so not to start a fire. Apparently not discouraged by the lack of answer, he heard the door slide open, pushing a pile of shirts further out of the way to one day disappear into the depths of the TARDIS before he ever got around to washing them. And he wasn’t using the shirts as a distraction point to avoid thinking about who was at the door, thank you. Nor did he need to clean up, Anji.

Rudely and blatantly disregarding one of his numerous and studied avoidance techniques, the voice from the door quietly said “Anji apologised for her sloth comment.”

Fitz couldn’t help but break his illusion of sleeping by snorting in laughter. “Nah, she didn’t.” 

“No, she didn’t.” the voice agreed, slightly amused, and Fitz, his eyes still covered, felt a body leaning over him and plucking the cigarette from his lax fingers, the mattress shifting as the Doctor sat down by his hips. He stayed silent for as long as he could, pretending the arm over his face had worked and that he was fast asleep, despite knowing already that the ploy hadn’t, but a guy could hope. The weight on the bed didn’t move. Fitz sighed. The weight still didn’t move. Fitz knew in a stalemate that the Doctor had far more patience than him, and still had Fitz’s cigarette. He sighed for a third time, just to make a point, and moved his arm to prop his head up rather than to cover it. The Doctor had the cigarette between his finger and thumb, holding it upright and was apparently fascinated in watching the thin band of red glowing as it ate its way through the thin paper and tobacco. 

“It’s not gonna do anything but burn out.” Fitz pointed out, and the profile of the Doctor nodded, and pinched the end of the cigarette to stop it, tucking it behind his own ear as neatly as if it were a daisy. 

“I rather like starfish. Such bright colours, and a beautiful variety.” He turned his face towards Fitz, smile soft and he had to press down on one of his own before answering.

“You like everything, Doctor.” 

“Oh, that’s not true, Fitz. Injustice, cruelty... over-brewed tea.” 

His smile turned wicked and Fitz rasped out a laugh before sobering.

“My mum took me to the seaside when I was a kid. Back before I knew, well, about her head.” He circled his hand meaningfully, and the Doctor’s big eyes met his. Fitz looked abruptly to the ceiling. “She told me stories about all the stuff in the rock pools.” The Doctor didn’t remember Fitz’s mum, he knew. Didn’t remember what he had done to her, but that was okay. Fitz had forgiven him. “Then I fell off that wall, and messed it up.” 

He reached out for the mess on his bedside table, blindly sorting through it until he came across a fresh cigarette, if a bit battered, and his lighter. 

“She must have loved you to tell you all those stories.”

“Yeah, well.” He put the cigarette between his lips and lit it, taking a long drag of it before taking removing it to speak. “That’s just what mum’s do, ain’t it.” 

“Hm,” the Doctor hummed, neither a condemnation nor agreement. 

He stood up, towering in Fitz’s view of the ceiling, and that was a view that threw him back to every time he’d woken up after being knocked out on some alien planet, but the gentle fingers were kindly brushing his fringe away from his forehead, and Fitz tensed, ready to twist away in case the Doctor went in for a kiss, but he simply turned and left, pulling the door closed behind him. Fitz wasn’t sure if he was exactly knew what was just happened, whether he was disappointed or not, but being constantly confused was just part of travelling with the Doctor. 

And he’d wandered off with one of Fitz’s cigarettes.  
\-- 

“Oh, look!” The Doctor called cheerily, skidding to a stop beside a deep pool made deeper by the hollow it was concealed in, and peering down into it’s depths. Fitz and Anji panted to a stop beside him, Fitz bent over with his hands pressed to his knees, his chest making truly awful noises. 

“I wonder if anything’s alive down there?”

“Is this really the time?” Anji forced out between breaths as the sound of pounding footsteps began echoing from out of the thin alleyway they had just escaped. 

“I rather think it’s the perfect time.” He held out a hand to each of them, Fitz reaching for it with the resigned expression of someone who had done this too often, but the Doctor had to wiggle his fingers at Anji before, the pursuing footsteps getting ever closer, she made a frustrated noise and grabbed it. 

“Ready or not,” the Doctor said, a gleeful expression on his face, and they flung themselves off the edge of the hollow just as the armed and angry guards came spewing out of the alley.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm unlucky enough to not have laid my hands on any EDAs yet (if someone knows a seller in NZ, hit me up) but have read as much as I can via wiki, tumblr reviews of books and all the Fitz stories on this great site. 
> 
> Find me on tumblr to go feral over Fitz at i-am-become-a-name.


End file.
